


Eingeweide

by LilKrissMuffet



Series: Boyfriend 2 DIE 4 [2]
Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Amputation, Blood and Gore, Disembowelment, Extremely Dubious Consent, Eye Trauma, F/M, Gross, Murder Kink, Necrophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Snuff, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Violence, Violent Sex, Warning: Strade (Boyfriend to Death)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25120873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilKrissMuffet/pseuds/LilKrissMuffet
Summary: Our beloved unnamed protagonist can't seem to stomach Strade's "home movies", so he decides to help her out with that in the only way he knows how...MURDER :DBasically a take your human pet to work day lol
Relationships: Strade (BTD/TNR)/Reader
Series: Boyfriend 2 DIE 4 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819693
Comments: 11
Kudos: 63





	1. The Show

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags here, folks. This one's a ride.
> 
> Feedback welcome <3

I. Home Movie

Shifting restlessly, Y/N sank deeper into the couch cushions, the TV lighting her anxious face with a ghoulish, blue glow in the dark living room. She didn’t want to see any more of what what was happening on the screen. She glanced over at Ren. He was leaning forward, his pointy ears perked up excitedly, and his long fluffy tail swishing back and forth, occasionally tickling her cheek. Then she looked to her other side. Strade was leaned back comfortably, feet propped up on the coffee table, one arm draped loosely around her shoulders and a cigar clamped between his teeth. His eyes were trained on the screen, but she knew he could tell she wasn’t watching anymore by the way he squeezed her shoulder. She quickly turned her attention back to the movie, though reluctantly.

She saw a young man, perhaps college-age, tied up with a strip of duct tape over his mouth. He trembled, staring pleadingly into the camera and making muffled sounds from behind the tape. “Oh…too bad, buddy…looks like they want your eye!”, came the familiar-sounding voice, dripping with mock sympathy. Strade was grinning as he watched himself approach the terrified kid, wielding a knife that Y/N instantly recognized. He lowered it to his tear-filled eye socket, sliding the flat of the blade under the top lid and smoothly curving it around the eyeball.

“Ahh! No, I can’t watch!”, she whimpered, her good hand flying up to cover her face. Her right arm hadn’t healed properly yet, hanging uselessly in a makeshift sling. Strade sighed and ground the lit end of his cigar into the top of her thigh, causing her to double over and hiss in pain. “Shhh…this is the best part! Pay attention, Y/N, you might learn a thing or two.”, Strade scolded her, pulling her close. He held her face in his hand to stop her from looking away, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught Ren staring at her with what appeared to be a hint of jealousy.

The three of them continued watching in tense silence as the Strade on the TV screen slowly scooped the eyeball out of the screaming young man’s skull. He wasn’t very careful and the eye had burst, reducing it to a goopy red mass of jelly drooping out of the socket. He glanced briefly off-camera, reading something. “Haha…wow, you guys are creative tonight! Alright, don’t mind if I do..”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her as TV-Strade unzipped his fly, and stuffed the head of his cock into the gore-ridden hollow where the eyeball used to be. He started fucking it with fervent enthusiasm, but not without first making sure the angle was right for his audience to get a good view of the action. Disgusting, wet noises filled the room from the surround-sound speakers, causing bile to rise up in her throat. She swallowed hard and forced herself to watch until the end. She didn’t want to make Strade unhappy.

She had been living with him for about three weeks now and situations like these were becoming a common occurrence. She and Ren were allowed to wander around the house as much as they liked, save for the basement, and they shared a bedroom on the second floor. Ren had a bed, but he preferred to curl up in a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor, kindly offering it to her instead. She had gratefully accepted, and they got along well, probably because she didn’t treat him like a freak upon seeing his fox ears and tail. Truthfully, she didn’t feel like she had the right to judge anyone, considering she had willingly gone home with Strade in the first place.

Strade left the two of them alone whenever he was working in “the shop”, as he often referred to it, and was even kind to them sometimes when he wasn’t. He fed them well, and typically bought them whatever they wanted with his seemingly endless supply of cash. Ren was always asking to order anime and video games online and he had picked out some new clothes for Y/N, as well as an even nicer, more expensive lingerie set to replace the one he had ripped up. She had a sneaking suspicion that was more for his benefit than anything, but still, she didn’t dare complain.

There were, of course, unexpected bouts of cruelty like the cigar being put out on her leg. Just two days ago she had been walking by him as he lounged on the couch, drinking a beer, and he stuck his foot out to trip her. She fell forward onto her bad arm and he had just laughed and said _“du ungeschicktes Ding”_ while she cradled her arm and cried on the floor.

Then there were the late nights that Strade would stumble drunkenly, (or soberly) into their bedroom and drag one or sometimes both of them back to his room to keep him company for the night. Sometimes that consisted of just simply being held in his death-grip while he slept, like a human teddy bear, but more often than not it meant falling victim to his violent sexual appetites. These encounters almost always left her with a few new bruises or scars, but she would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t enjoy them at least a little bit. Strade was an unforgiving, even selfish lover, but damn was he a good lay. It probably only helped that he was so well-endowed.

Y/N also wasn’t surprised when she found out the truth about his "film-making" profession since she had witnessed first-hand how sadistic he was capable of being. However, part of her was constantly afraid that she may someday end up on one of his infamous live-streams herself. At the mercy of Strade’s…”customers”…and the sharp end of his knife. It was times like these when the electric collar around her neck hung the heaviest.

Beyond all of that, she lived in relative comfort, whiling away the days watching anime and playing video games with Ren, or drawing in her sketchbook that Strade had let her keep. He had, in fact, given her back her entire bag from the hall closet, though her smartphone was obviously nowhere to be found. They would often eat dinner or watch TV together at night like some kind of weird little family, but there was always tension in the air, given Strade’s unpredictable nature.

The day after she was forced to watch his skull-fucking video, apparently one of Strade’s personal favorites, she was having difficulty getting the gruesome imagery out of her head. She was sitting in the kitchen with Ren while they ate lunch. He was a pretty good cook and he had prepared grilled cheese and homemade tomato soup at her request. She looked down at her spoonful of the viscous, red liquid. Horrifyingly, it reminded her of the stuff that had dribbled from the kid’s eye socket as Strade thrusted in and out of it. She dropped the spoon and looked up at Ren, who was happily munching away.

“How can you watch that… _stuff,_ Ren?”, she asked him, barely concealing her disgust. He lifted his head, a soup mustache on his upper lip, and nervously glanced from side-to-side. Strade was out of the house for the afternoon, but Ren had been conditioned to watch his mouth for fear of “the master” overhearing anything that might arouse his anger. Or just arouse, in general.

“What? Oh!..uhh..well..I guess I just got used to it, that’s all. I mean…it’s kind of like watching a horror movie, isn’t it?” He smiled at her, shrugging his shoulders. She just stared at him, unconvinced.

“Yeah, it’s easy enough to think that..unless you know it’s _real.”_ , she retorted, pushing her bowl away and nibbling at her sandwich. “Well..yeah…I know.” Ren looked down at his empty plate, thinking. “OK, how I see it is this…So, Strade told me once that he…hurts people, not just because he makes a lot of money doing it, but because…it’s um, the only way you can really _know_ someone. Like, their true self comes out during it, you know?”

Y/N nodded, gesturing for him to continue. “Then..then when we watch Strade’s movies, we get to see who those people really are. Like a side of them that probably even their parents or their best friends haven’t seen! It’s kinda like…taking off a mask!”, he beamed, proud of his own analogy, but his face fell a little at her unchanged expression. “I-Isn’t that at least a _little_ bit…cool?”, he asked sheepishly, his ears drooping slightly. Y/N shook her head sadly. “Oh, Ren…I wish I could see the world through your eyes. You find the good in everything.”, she said, reaching out her hand and gently touching his cheek.

Their tender moment was soon interrupted by the front door flying open and slamming into the wall. “I’m hooome!!~”, Strade sang out cheerfully from the foyer. “Ren, Y/N! Come here for a second! I’ve got a surprise for you…”

They glanced at each other, both nervous. Surprises from Strade weren’t usually a good thing.

II. Behind the Scenes

Strade stood in the hall, casually taking off his jacket, the crumpled figure of what appeared to be a woman about Y/N’s age lying in a heap at his feet. Her wrists and ankles were bound with rope and blood dripped from her nose. She was alive, but unconscious. She must have put up a fight, Y/N thought to herself, observing the red scratch marks on Strade’s forearms. He grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her to his side.

“So, _liebling..._ Since you enjoyed the movie _sooo_ much last night, I thought you might like a peek behind-the-scenes, _ja?_ Just for you!”, he laughed obnoxiously and kicked the woman in the ribs with the toe of his boot. Ren was slowly backing away, eyes wide, but Strade caught him. “Ren, give me a hand and open that door, will you?” he ordered, pointing at the entrance to the basement. He obeyed wordlessly, shooting Y/N a sympathetic look of concern and she suddenly became very afraid, shivering with fear.

“Strade…I-I…don’t think I’m ready. To watch you, I mean.”, she protested meekly as he and Ren lifted the woman’s body and prepared to carry her down the steep steps. Strade just smiled and squeezed her hand. “You’re as ready as you’ll ever be, _mein schatz._ And you’ll be downstairs in five minutes if you don’t want to see your drawing arm in a sling too, OK?”, he threatened her, smiling sweetly. She nodded, trying to be polite. “Yes, Strade. I’ll be down.” She didn’t even want to think about the horrible things he was planning on doing to that poor, innocent woman, but Strade did not make empty threats and so she steeled herself, following them down into the dark basement soon after.

His setup was simple. Video camera on a tripod, laptop on a small table nearby. Tools of choice lined up in a neat row, a circular saw, a sledgehammer…that fucking _knife_. The lightbulb hanging from the ceiling cast an eerie spotlight onto the woman’s face. She was bound to a metal folding-chair, awake now, and yelling at Strade.

“You goddamn PSYCHO!!! Let me GO!! What the hell is _wrong_ with you??!!”, she cried, thrashing from side to side, threatening to tip over the chair. Strade ignored her, watching his pre-stream view count rapidly increase and making last-minute preparations. He had tied a black bandana around his face, showing only his glowing, golden eyes, a grinning skull face where his nose and mouth should be. The effect was downright unsettling.

Y/N sat on a wooden crate, watching shyly from the sidelines. She caught the other woman’s eye who then turned on her angrily. “Hey, you _bitch!_ Yeah, you over there! What are you, his little _whore?_ Why won’t you HELP me, huh? When I get outta here, I’m gonna fuckin’ ki-“

Strade calmly peeled off one of his thick, black gloves and suddenly cracked his knuckles across her face, rocking her head back and causing more blood to fly from her nose and mouth. Silenced for now, her long, blonde hair hung in her face and she stilled, sobbing quietly. “Save the noise for when the stream starts.”, he said, his tone low and dangerous. He turned back to his laptop and grinned.

“It looks like this is going to be a fun one.”

III. The Main Event

Watching Strade in full work-mode was like seeing someone flip an invisible switch inside his brain. He was so professional and under such careful control, a natural showman. Like a ringleader in a circus of death, he made grand gestures, welcoming his audience and beckoning Y/N to move closer as well. She picked up her crate and set it down just off-camera, but had to keep leaning forward to see the chat. The things she read turned her stomach.

“oh fuck she looks hott would <3 2 tear off her arm n shove it up her cunt u gunna show us her face make her cut herself plz”

She quickly looked away, instead turning her attention to Strade as he addressed the masses. “Hey everyone! B3G_CRY, here! We got another _exciting_ show for you today, as you can see…” He grabbed the sobbing woman by the hair, forcing her head up so she could see herself on the screen.

“What the hell-you’re _filming_ me, you son of a bitch?!” Strade gently stroked her cheek. “Relaaax, _kätzchen_ ~ Why don’t you smile for all the lovely people at home, hm?” He grabbed his knife from the table and brought it to her face. The chat was going wild, filling the room with loud pinging as donations came pouring in. His eyes lit up as he slid the blade sideways into the corner of her mouth, pulling at her cheek and exposing her teeth in a grimace. More pings fired off in rapid succession. These freaks wanted blood right out the gate. “Whoa-ho, slow down! I can’t keep track of all that this early in the game!”, Strade laughed, trying to read the highlighted requests.

“cut her cut dat bitchs face off bash in her teeth maker swallow em hey she aint smilin wanna see her smile”

Then, as she leaned a little too far forward, Y/N spotted the next string of messages and her breath caught in her throat.

“hey whos that to your left get her in on this shit bro fuck yea thatd be fuckin hot”

Soon the chat was filled with requests demanding to see “that other chick.” Strade curled a gloved finger towards her in an inviting come-hither gesture. “Ah, you heard them _liebling._ Your adoring fans want to see that pretty face of yours!” He reached out his hand for her to take as she timidly approached, cringing at the sight of the blood trickling from the woman’s mouth around the knife. As his fingers closed over hers, Strade suddenly swept the blade out and to the side, slicing cleanly through the woman’s cheek without even looking at what he was doing. The skin hung loosely in flaps and she screamed, her voice garbled by the blood filling her mouth.

He casually wiped the knife off on his pants and flipped it around in his hand, offering it to Y/N. She slowly shook her head, unable to take her eyes off of the screaming, spluttering woman, whose entire front was now covered in blood. He waved the knife expectantly.

“Come on, _schätzchen_ …your turn. No need to be shy!” Her hand shook as she finally gripped the hilt and Strade smiled. Though his mouth was covered, she could see it in his eyes.

“Alright, guys! What will you have _mein kleines assistent_ do next? Let’s make her first time interesting, _ja?”_ The next highlighted message, right underneath the bold, italicized “THREESOME LOL” was

“not the knife”

That one had the higher donation, and Strade shrugged, asking, “Oh? What do you want to see her use instead uhh…”goregalore86?” Thank you for the donation, by the way! Always so generous!”, he beamed, waving a hand at the camera in acknowledgement. Right away, another ping. Another donation.

“the hammer”

He perked up, intrigued. “Hmm..alright!” He took the knife from Y/N and replaced it with the heavy sledgehammer but she struggled to hoist its weight one-handed. Its head was scuffed and well-worn, probably not used for its intended purpose. She chewed her lip and stared nervously into the camera. “smile sweety” was the next request and she managed to do so, weakly, as Strade stood behind her, nudging her towards the real star of the show.

Y/N looked down at the pathetic creature, soaked in her own blood and barely conscious, teeth showing red through her ruined face. She looked uncertainly over her shoulder at Strade, hugging the hammer to her chest, as if to try and quell her racing heart. “Wh-what should I….what do you want me to do?”, she asked him meekly, her palms beginning to grow slick with sweat. He arched an impatient eyebrow and folded his arms.

“I don’t know…why don’t you ask _them?”,_ he suggested, tilting his head at the camera. She didn’t have to though, because goregalore86 made an even bigger donation before she could speak.

“break her knees”

IV. Gore Galore

Y/N gulped hard, her throat suddenly bone-dry. “I-I-…I don’t think I can do this…” she stammered in a small, frightened voice. "Here, let me help you.", Strade said as he took her arm, forcibly guiding it to a swinging position high up over her head. Then he lifted the woman’s ankle, pulling her leg out straight and easily holding it in place while she squirmed. He nodded to Y/N and she squeezed her eyes shut as she brought the hammer down on her fragile kneecap without thinking, allowing gravity to do the work more than her own strength. There was a loud snap, like a thin sheet of ice breaking, and the woman jerked violently. “Oh FUCK, my kneeeee”, she screeched, her voice barely intelligible through her destroyed mouth.

“Good girl…now was that so hard?…”, Strade cooed encouragingly into Y/N’s ear and nuzzled against her cheek briefly before turning back to the camera. She dropped the sledgehammer to the ground, unable to hold it anymore. Horrified, she gazed down at her trembling hand as if she had never seen it before.

“Ouch! Did you guys hear _that?"_ , he chuckled good-naturedly and pointed to Y/N shaking visibly at his side. “You’ll have to ah, excuse my dear assistant. She had an accident, you see..” He playfully elbowed her bad arm, making her wince. Another ping:

“ok give her the knife back then”

Strade obliged, selecting a smaller one that would be easier for her to handle. She studied it, mesmerized by the light from the laptop reflecting off of the blade.

“yea cut her up cut that bitch up make her bleed hey show us your tits”

The chat was a blur, everyone excited to see what Y/N would do next. “Well, what are you waiting for, _liebling?_ …Get to it.” There was an aggressive edge to his tone, startling her back to reality. This was an order. She looked at the knife in her hand and then back at the woman, her target. She was glaring back up at her, her eyes burning with rage and pain…and fear. “Bitch!”, she spat, straining forward in her seat as much as the ropes would allow. Y/N shrank back, clutching the hilt of the knife tightly enough to make her fingers ache. “You won’t do it, you fucking little _pussy!_ Fuck you _cunt_ , and _fuck him too!!!”_ The woman hissed through her split cheek, spraying Y/N’s face with blood and saliva.

“cut her cut her cut her stab that fuckin cunt fuck her up”

They cheered her on, ravenous now at the bloodsport on display. Strade simply watched her from the shadows, silent, but his wide-eyed gaze spoke volumes. “Do it, you won’t, you fuckin’ _coward_ , JUST KILL ME”

Y/N grit her teeth. “Fuck it”, she muttered under her breath and stabbed the knife deep into the other woman’s thigh, taken aback at how easily the blade sank into her flesh. It was like cutting a slice of birthday cake. She remembered when Strade had done the same thing to her on the day they met and felt a strange sort of triumph. This felt…good. It felt satisfying to finally shut this bitch up and make her howl in agony instead.

“again again stab her again cut her up more wanna see dat blood floww”

The chat scrolled faster and she felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She pulled the knife out with some difficulty and looked over at Strade. He was holding the circular saw and breathing heavily, watching her with an unnerving intensity. He looked…sort of proud. She took a deep breath and brought the knife down again, slicing deep into the woman’s upper arm. Blood poured from the fresh wound, dripping onto the floor.

“Please stop! No more! I’m _sorry,_ OK? Whatever I did, I’m SORRY!!” She was begging now, tears mixing with the blood on her face. Y/N could see Strade creeping closer out of the corner of her eye. She could practically _feel_ the heat of his arousal like standing next to an open oven. He was waiting to deal the killing blow, she could tell.

“kill her kill her then fuck the corpse hell yea fuck em both my dude shit im gonna blow a fuckin load just from this lmaooo”

Y/N felt something deep inside of her take control, and she shut her eyes, cutting blindly through the air. She swung the knife again and again, opening ugly, red gushing wounds all over. In that brief, primal moment, the blade was her pen and the flesh was a blank canvas.

When it was done, she hesitantly opened her eyes, afraid to see the results of her sudden violent outburst. What used to be the young woman was now a gruesome visage of crimson gore, bleeding from probably a dozen places or more. Her face was a wide-eyed death mask, jaw hanging open in a silent scream of horror and pain, her blonde hair matted to her pale cheeks with sweat and blood. She was still alive, but breathing shallowly.

“Oh…oh shit, what did I _do?_ Wha-what is.. _wrong_ with me?” Y/N’s voice was a high, terrified whisper. Her arm lowered to her side as she began to step away from the horrific sight before her, wobbling on unsteady feet. Strade caught her wrist, pulling her back.

“Mmm..you did such a good job, _liebling._ That was…. _exhilarating_ to watch.”, he growled against her neck low enough so that the chat couldn’t hear. Then he turned back to the camera and called out to them, loud and excited. “Oh wow, wasn’t _that_ something? Didn’t know she had it in her, did ya? Haha, well…shall we move on to our _grand finale?”_ His voice quivered noticeably, clearly worked up and not hiding it very well.

He lifted the hand-held circular saw and it roared to life. His victim shut her eyes, not bothering to struggle any longer. She knew she was about to die. Y/N felt Strade shudder with delight at her side, watching dully as he dragged the whirring blade through the meat of the limp woman’s shoulder, cutting deep and spraying a fine mist of blood all over both of them. When he pulled the saw away, the arm dangled from her torso by a few delicate strips of flesh and sinew, and she had fallen forward in the chair, either unconscious or dead.

Strade felt her neck briefly for a pulse. “Ah, don’t worry, boys…this one’s still got some jam left!”, he laughed, giving the camera a thumbs up. He powered up the saw again, this time slicing horizontally through her stomach. Her guts plopped out with a sick, _splorching_ sound onto her bloody lap and splattered all over the floor.

“Oops! Looks like I got a little carried away there, sorry about that!” Strade apologized like he had just accidentally spilled wine on someone’s new carpet.

Y/N watched all of this unfold in blank horror. She struggled not to vomit, tasting the acidic remains of her grilled cheese from lunch in the back of her throat. Her clothes and face were painted with splashes of the now-very-dead woman’s blood. She could feel it warm on her skin, could smell it, taste it. She tried to think about what Ren told her.

_“It’s just like watching a horror movie, isn’t it?”_

“Aw…well, I guess that’s all the time we have for today. Thanks for joining me, _meine Freunde!_ If you enjoyed the show…and I _know_ you did…be sure to _slash_ that subscribe button on your way out! Until next time!~”

Y/N saw Strade wink at the camera, his cheery voice dim in her ears. After he closed the laptop, shrouding them in darkness, she barely registered his touch as he aggressively grabbed her good arm and lifted her knife to his lips. He met her gaze and slowly, sensually, licked the blood off the blade, dragging his tongue suggestively all the way up to the tip. Weak-kneed and breathless, she allowed him to unceremoniously tear her clothes off and pull her down with him into the sea of blood and viscera coating the basement floor.

She simply stared, numb and dazed, up into his wild, shining eyes as he fucked her savagely on top of the swiftly-cooling corpse of the woman that she had just helped murder. Internal organs squished around underneath them with the force of his thrusts, and he impatiently bit down on her throat just above her collar to elicit some sort of reaction. She moaned softly and he smiled, teeth still embedded in her tender flesh. He would not tolerate passive silence.

The only thing she would remember later, _much_ later that night as she lay soaking in a (supervised) hot bath with the water turning a deep shade of red, was all of the blood. So much blood, just fucking _everywhere._ That, and Strade’s cruel laughter as he came all over the dead woman’s back.

“Hahah, hey look, Y/N! She looks like a gravy boat, _ja?_ ….Y/N?”

He glanced over to see that she had passed out, her H/C hair sopping up the blood underneath her. “Hahh… _niedlich.”_ , Strade sighed contentedly and lifted her into his arms. He carried her up the stairs, still giggling at his own stupid joke along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please excuse the "slash that subscribe button" joke. I just couldn't resist. ;)
> 
> German Translation Key
> 
> Eingeweide - Guts, Viscera, Entrails
> 
> Du ungeshicktes Ding. - You clumsy thing.
> 
> liebling - darling, favorite
> 
> mein schatz - my treasure
> 
> kätzchen - kitten
> 
> schätzchen - honey, darling, baby
> 
> mein kleines assistent - my little assistant
> 
> meine Freunde - my friends
> 
> niedlich - cute


	2. The After-Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night after her first snuff stream, our brave heroine has a nightmare and runs to Strade for...comfort. 
> 
> This is mostly just gross porn, what can I say? :)

V. White Noise in the Dark

This had to be a nightmare. Or at least she thought it was. Nothing felt quite real, or maybe she was straddling that impossibly thin line between wake and sleep. An unknown plane where monsters hunted unsuspecting dreamers under a thick blanket of shadow. Y/N cracked a joyless smile at the thought. After all, how could the things that go bump in the night hold a candle to the very real, corporeal threat she faced every morning at the breakfast table, grinning with playful malice at her over a bowl of cereal? Any night terrors her traumatized subconscious tried to throw at her were small potatoes compared to Strade and his shiny repertoire of tools and torture devices.

Granted, she had learned how to deal with him somewhat. Enduring his cruel impulses and unwanted…intrusions, could easily be considered an art-form under his roof, but she was still trying to figure out what made his time-bomb tick. One day, she promised herself, she would defuse it. Or die trying.

This small conviction brought her comfort as she languished in the throes of sleep paralysis. The bedroom she shared with Ren was pitch dark, vague shapes only barely visible in the blackness. The air was charged with the presence of… _things,_ raking their invisible fingers down her body, intangible arms encircling her waist and slowly pulling her to the edge of the bed, even though she didn’t feel like she was going anywhere at all. Hissing whispers echoed in both of her ears, layered on top of one another like a reflection within a reflection, calling out her name. The inhuman voice was shrill, accusatory. “Of what?”, she tried to ask. She didn’t kill that woman in the basement. Strade did. Besides, she had no choice. She just…wouldn’t shut up. Those insatiable, faceless fiends wouldn’t shut up. She had to do _something_ to silence those awful voices…right?

Suddenly the ceiling over her head cracked and split open, spreading wider like a knife wound. Even the texture of the ceiling itself seemed to transform into something soft and malleable, flesh-like. Out of that void erupted a flood of blackish-red ichor, thick, heavy, opaque. And alive. It didn’t so much fall down as _crawl_ through the air, enveloping her. There were faces in it, eyes wide and bloodshot, mouths contorted in a thousand screams. Those wretched voices grew louder and louder as she was smothered by their weight, suffocating. They melded together until it was nothing but a wall of dead static. White noise in the dark. 

Then silence. She was awake.

VI. Bad Ideas

She hadn’t screamed, as far as she could tell. Ren was still out like a light, his tail curled up and over his eyes like a sleep mask. She felt a cold glaze of sweat on her brow and her breathing was labored, as if something had been putting pressure on her chest. The sheets were twisted around her limbs, evidence of a struggle. She sighed with relief. Whatever it was, she had escaped this time.

After a few minutes of lying still, trying to calm down and maybe get back to sleep, Y/N gave up, resigned to another restless night. She _had_ done terrible things today, so did she really deserve the small respite of a good night’s sleep to begin with? She quietly tip-toed out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen. Her throat was dry and she needed some water. She leaned back against the sink, looking down the hall over her glass and noticed Strade’s bedroom door was partially open. She put the empty glass down on the counter, quirking an eyebrow. He usually had that door shut tight at night. Never locked, but not exactly inviting them in either. Not unless he dragged them in there himself. 

The soft ray of moonlight in his doorway taunted her, almost daring her to come inside. That glass of water hadn’t quenched her thirst after all, she thought to herself, bitterly amused. She caught her reflection in the hall mirror, observing the dark bruises and bite-marks on her arms, legs, and throat above her electric collar, the jagged white scars on her thighs, the tired circles under her eyes. She was dressed only in one of Strade’s old worn-in shirts, many of the buttons missing from him impatiently ripping them off in an effort to get his hands on her bare flesh, and the expensive lace underwear he had bought for her. For his _pet_.

She felt a tiny burst of adrenaline, like the way it felt to sink that knife into that whiny bitch’s leg mere hours ago. She closed her eyes, relinquishing control to that emerging “other” once more. This was going to be different. This was going to be like playing with fire. She undid one of the two functional buttons on her shirt and licked her lips at her reflection. She didn’t think she would mind getting burned this time.

Y/N carefully stepped into Strade’s room, light on her feet and in her head. What she was attempting to do could possibly get her killed, she knew, but it was too late now. She was already high off of the danger and the fear. It felt like gazing down into the abyss and suddenly wanting to jump. The door was open just wide enough for her to slip through without touching it and risking a creak that might wake him up. 

As her eyes finished adjusting to the dark, she heard Strade’s loud, obnoxious snoring before she even saw his face. He was stretched out on his side, his tanned arms wrapped tightly around his pillow and a tiny pool of drool collecting on it under his open mouth. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and she paused to admire the curve of his muscles and the strange, militaristic-looking tattoo on his left bicep. Tendrils of wavy brown hair dangled in front of his face, lit by the moonbeam coming through his window. The soft glow made him look almost..normal. Innocent, even. She smiled dreamily to herself, twirling her fingers in her hair. She was smitten.

This was the same guy who had raped multiple holes into her right arm with a power drill while cackling like a lunatic, then later disemboweled a woman on camera for the enjoyment of strangers on the internet…and made _bank_ doing it, but goddammit. He was so cute sometimes. She dug her nails into her palm, hating herself for falling for his insidious charms _yet fucking again._ How predictable. She shrugged, admitting defeat, and approached the bed. 

She wondered if she should try gently tapping him on the shoulder first. It was probably not wise to just climb under the covers and potentially startle him but as she reached out he twitched violently, a particularly loud, wet-sounding snore making her quickly withdraw her hand. Once he had quieted down, mumbling a little under his breath, she decided to just go for it. 

However, as soon as her full weight sank into his side of the bed, his eyes flew open, his pupils blown out, making his gold eyes look solid black. Before she knew it, she was pinned on her back underneath him, a pocket knife pressed against her throat. (Where was he hiding that?) He bared his teeth in a warning snarl. Evidently, Strade did not fuck around with intruders.

VII. Time-Bomb

“Strade, wait! It’s just me!”, Y/N squeaked out, holding her palm up to show she was unarmed. Upon recognizing her, his expression softened and he lightened the pressure on her throat, though only a little. He smirked playfully. 

“Oh?…what are _you_ doing here at this late hour, _liebling?_ Did you have a scary dream?~” His tone was a tad patronizing and she narrowed her eyes at him. He wasn’t wrong.

“Are you really surprised I did..you know..after what happened today?”, she asked him and he chuckled, sliding the knife up to her face, tracing her cheekbone with a feathery touch. 

“Hm…it’s been, what, a few weeks now? I would think you’d be used to the occasional nightmare by this point! Or maybe…you were just lonely, _ja?”_

He leaned down closer, fixing her with that unnerving stare of his, like he knew all of her secrets. His greasy hair brushed against her cheeks. He always smelled like blood, even after he showered.

He was waiting for an answer, his free hand sliding up her shirt and digging painfully into her ribs, as if he was thinking about breaking them just to hear the noise they made. It was too easy to trigger him. Just a few seconds ago, he had been slumbering peacefully in a puddle of his own saliva. Perhaps he was extra excited by his little lamb willingly offering herself up for the slaughter tonight. Y/N cursed her terrible ideas.

“Maybe a little.”, she admitted, avoiding his uncomfortable gaze. This was feeling more and more like a mistake.

“Aww..that’s pretty cute, actually. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you? I mean…you know what I could do to you..haha…what I _have_ done to you and yet..you still come _looking_ for me. You just want more.. _”_ His voice trailed down to a whisper, his breath warm against her lips.

“I…I just can’t help it. I just…can’t…”

“Just can’t stay away from me, eh buddy?” Strade finished her sentence, leisurely dragging his knife around to the front of her shirt. There was a small snap as he cut one of the last remaining buttons free, pushing her shirt open with the flat of the blade. Her chest and stomach were adorned with numerous healing cuts and fading bruises, but there was still some empty space for him to leave his mark. 

She bit her lip, flinching as he carved a shallow diagonal line just under her clavicle. His breath quickened at the sight of the blood beading slowly up from the wound. This was how it usually began. He would cut her, bite her, squeeze hard enough to leave a bruise in the shape of his hand, and that’s what got him going. Where the real fun started.

She started to tremble, riding high on a strange, heady mix of anxiety and lust. Strade noticed this, of course, and he drew his knife in the other direction, intersecting the first cut in a cross formation. He traced the X with one finger, smearing her blood which he then licked off, savoring the flavor. The sweetness made him want to rip her entire chest open. 

_“Mmm..ich liebe die Art, wie du shmeckst, liebling.”_

She made a small, helpless noise. Hearing Strade speak his native language always made her knees weak, even though she hadn’t the slightest idea what he was saying. He could be telling her he was going to boil an infant and serve it to her for dinner and she wouldn’t care, despite that particular scenario being entirely plausible in his case. This time, however, her curiosity was peaked. 

“Strade..what does that mean?”, she asked timidly.

He stopped trying to dig his tongue into her wounds and looked back up at her, arching an eyebrow. She had never asked him something like that before. He thought for a second before responding with a sly grin. 

“It just means that your suffering makes the best seasoning, _meine liebe.”_ , he purred, his voice low. Before she could stop herself from acting on another bad idea, she continued to question him. 

“But…why though? Why does my pain, or anyone else’s, make you so….like this?”, she finished awkwardly, fully expecting him to lash out for daring to push his buttons. He seemed genuinely surprised for a second, but then smiled wider, deciding to indulge her curiosity.

“You’re so talkative right now. But alright, why not?…I’ll _humor_ you.” He laughed condescendingly and held her chin in his hand, forcing her to look him in the eyes. His knife wandered aimlessly over her skin while he spoke, making it difficult to really listen.

“Let’s see..I’ll start with this, _liebling._ People…are fake. They’re _liars._ They don’t have the guts to be who they really want to be, and they hold back from doing what they really want to do. All because of some rules made up by people that are living the same lie.” He paused for effect, his eyes glowing with a fervent intensity.

“Myself, on the other hand”, he smiled, a cocky tilt in his grin. “I don’t need those rules. I do what I want and I don’t feel bad about it. After all, why should I? Guilt is not part of who I am. So…I don’t feel the need to hide my excitement whenever I cut someone open and _gut them like a fish.”_

The knife twitched on this last point, breaking the skin, but she didn’t dare make a sound. His words terrified her. He continued, keenly sensing her rising fear.

“You see, when I do these things to someone, it ah… _forces_ them to stop being fake for a while. When they scream, or cry, or _beg for their lives.._ or even fight back. Well. Then I know that’s who they _really_ are…and I just want to get a glimpse of that before I _kill_ them."

She thought about what Ren had told her. Turned out, he wasn’t lying. Strade’s voice took on an unstable quiver as he continued to explain to her his twisted logic. He suddenly pointed the tip of the knife at her face, almost touching her nose.

“And you, _mein liebchen.._ you were no different. When I saw you in the coffee shop, I could sense your weakness, your insecurity. It drew me to you. It’s like you were _begging_ me to pick you, ahaha….and I could tell the real Y/N was hiding just under the surface. Under your _skin._ All I had to do was..” It was here that Strade pressed the blade to her cheek, below her eye. She barely felt the cold metal against her face, so sure he was going to gouge out her eyeball like in the video he forced her to watch.

_“…Cut her out.”_ , he finished with a giggle, pulling the knife away. He clearly found her obvious distress hilarious.

Y/N stared up at him, trying to process the metric fuck-ton of crazy he had just hit her with. She had never heard him speak so frankly about the impulses that drove him to do what he did, never mind explain them, but at the same time, she felt no closer to figuring him out. The way his mind worked was too… _wrong_. Like the gears in a clock turning backwards instead of forwards. 

Still, she was moved by his passion and she gathered the courage to reach up with her good hand and try to touch him. He grabbed it, twisting it roughly up over her head. Her stupid plan to seduce him was backfiring hard. She had to remind herself that Strade was not some misunderstood, little lost puppy of a man that just wanted love. He was a sociopathic murderer with a penchant for sadism, and the only “love” he wanted was the kind taken by force, preferably over spilt blood.

“So..does that answer your question?”, he asked, tracing her stomach with the tip of the knife, drawing lazy circles around her navel. Her muscles tensed, afraid he was just going to plunge it deep into her guts by the way he was looking at her. 

“I think so…”, she responded quietly, a bit hesitant. He wasn’t satisfied.

“Tell me though, what did you _really_ come in here for, hm? Just to ask me silly questions? No…that can’t be it. You were looking for something else _,_ I think.”, he teased her, pretending to search her expression for clues. He knew full well what she didn’t have the courage to tell him, and he was enjoying this game entirely too much to just give her what she knew they both wanted.

“Well…I…uhh..”, she struggled with what to say and he was quickly growing impatient, fidgety. She thought if she stalled long enough, he would eventually get bored and just go to town anyway. Make her bleed a little more while he was at it, for good measure.

“You’re holding back, Y/N. I can tell. You’re like a can of beer all shook up and ready to explode all over the place..” Strade chuckled darkly, cutting a small red line into the soft flesh of her stomach. She hissed in pain and drew a deep breath. If she had to actually ask him, then so be it. He _was_ the type to appreciate honesty, after all.

VIII. Sanity Meter (In the Red)

“Strade…I…came in here because..um..I saw your door open…and I..wanted..I mean..” The blade dug a little deeper, going over the same wound twice, widening it.  Y/N closed her eyes, wincing at the pain. She was suddenly tired of playing around with him. 

“Ugghh…I just want you to _fuck_ me, OK!? Hurt me and fuck my brains out! Is that what you _want_ me to say?!”

Strade’s eyes widened with surprise and giddy excitement, his body language suddenly even more alert. 

“Oh?…eheheheh…I got you all _hot and bothered,_ do I?..” He leaned uncomfortably close to her face, dragging his tongue up her cheek and pressing himself against her. 

She noted with zero surprise that he was already hard, as if there was any pretense that he didn’t want this too. Talking about his love of torture and murder clearly got him going almost as much as the real thing, it seemed. Crazy fuck.

“Well, yeah…I…I…” she stammered, her heart pounding and her skin feeling like it was going to burn up. She was so wet and aching for his attention, for him to do fucking _anything_ other than just maddeningly stare at her, a trembling, bleeding mess underneath him.

“P-please…” she whispered, only half-consciously spreading her legs to try and invite him in. She felt raw shame heating up her already pink cheeks. God, she both hated and loved how much power he had over her.

“Wow… _eifrig.”_ he mumbled, and pulled her up to a sitting position in his lap, forcing her back roughly against the headboard. “I know just what you need, _schätzchen..”_ , he growled into her ear, his lips just barely brushing her neck. 

_“Lass mich dir gefallen..”_

He bit down hard, without warning and she moaned, sounding tantalizingly desperate and vulnerable to his ears. He made a guttural, excited sound in his throat, shoving his hand violently down between her legs. His thumb pressed harshly on her clit, rubbing hard, reckless circles all over her most sensitive spot. 

She tried to move into his touch as much as he would let her, crying out his name. Of course it hurt; the word “gentle” was not exactly part of Strade’s vocabulary, but it was better than him not touching her at all. Besides, it made her feel alive, if nothing else. Even if he decided to brutally kill her on a whim, as he was wont to do, that fleeting sense of euphoria that only he could give her would have been worth it. She felt that familiar tight, burning coil winding up inside of her and she freed her hand from his grip, reaching out blindly to touch some part of him, to grab onto and pull herself closer to him.

Strade watched her face, fascinated. She was quickly losing what little control she once had, and he knew it. He could probably make her do anything he wanted at this point. He grinned smugly, spurring her on.

“You like that, _ja?_ When I have you like this..this is the _real_ Y/N trying to come out. You’re coming apart, _mein schatz._ I’m _ripping_ into your seams…Can you feel it?”, he whispered and licked the side of her neck just below her ear, tasting her sweat. 

Her pussy was dripping on his hand and he thought to himself how fun it would be if he just stopped right now and made her beg for more. The idea almost made him laugh out loud. What would she be willing to do? He shuddered at the thought, so tempted to find out.

He stilled his hand but left it in place, and she whined, wriggling against him in frustration. 

“Strade…please..keep going..”

He leaned back on his hands, an arrogant, sadistic grin spreading across his flushed face.

“ _Make_ me.”

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, the tension between them building as she struggled to catch her breath. This was absolute torture..but she loved it. He snickered, mocking her, and his knowing gaze infuriated her so much that she flung herself at him, pawing at his chest and knocking him backwards on the bed. 

He wasn’t about to let her get the upper hand, however, and he slid his knife out from under the sheets, poking the sharp point into the center of her chest as a warning not to fuck with him. He was smiling, knowing that he was in control. One false move and she was dead. She straightened back up, straddling him.

“Get to work, _liebling.”,_ Strade purred, pulling his cock out and hungrily swiping his tongue over his teeth. He stroked himself lazily, rubbing against her warm stomach. She inhaled sharply, the sheer size of him always giving her pause. 

She leaned forward, balancing her one good hand on his chest and eased herself down onto the tip. He didn’t seem to mind much that she was taking her time. After all, she was not used to this, usually laying underneath him while he slobbered all over her, and pounding into her until she couldn’t walk the next day. This was new. This was different, and she wasn’t so sure if she liked it. 

She managed to clumsily right herself and looked down at him uncertainly, wincing at the pain of being filled up so completely. He groaned with pleasure, finally pulling her hips all the way down before she was really ready and she screamed, throwing her head back. She felt like she was splitting in half, but in a weird way, it felt good too. 

He dragged his gaze up the curves of her quivering body until their eyes met, his face alight with feverish ardor. He held his knife out to her, hilt first. Just like in the basement.

“Cut yourself for me. _”_ He wasn’t asking. Her eyes widened in fear but she felt her excitement grow as she took it in her hand. 

“I want to watch you cut yourself while you _ride_ me.” His husky voice dripped with a barely-contained voracity that made her pulse quicken. He looked like he wanted to eat her alive and suck the marrow from her bones. 

She felt his cock throb impatiently inside of her and she began to move, rocking her hips tentatively against him. She carefully lowered the knife to her thigh. 

“…Like this?”, she asked him, nearly breathless. 

Strade nodded and she drew the blade over one of her scars, reopening an old wound he had given her. She had gone a little deeper than she intended and the blood began to seep out alarmingly quick, running down her leg and onto his sheets. He eyed the fresh wound, looking rather pleased, but far from satiated. 

“Ahh…You can do better than that, _meine liebe. More…”_

Y/N took a deep, shaky breath, trying to focus on what she was doing through the pain of cutting her leg and the distraction of the delightfully awful stretching of her insides. She examined the knife in her hand, and looked back down at Strade, who was watching her closely, expectant. Maybe even a bit suspicious? 

He was wide open, laying in the perfect position for her to just stab him in the chest with his own weapon and get the hell out of here with Ren in tow. They could figure out how to remove the collars, right? There had to be keys or something around here somewhere…

She suddenly yelped like a wounded animal as Strade delivered a vicious, open-palmed slap to her thigh, right over the oozing cut. 

He let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes in irritation, but he was still smiling. Always smiling. 

“You were thinking about stabbing me, _ja?”_ His hand shot up and snatched her wrist with impressive speed, forcing her to drop the knife under his crushing grip. Overwhelmed, she began to cry, shaking her head. 

“Don’t _lie_ to me, Y/N…”, he growled through clenched teeth, slamming his hand onto her hip and thrusting harshly up into her to drive home his point. She swore something inside of her felt like it was tearing. 

“What did I _say_ about _liars? Huh?”_

“Y-Yes, Strade…I-I was..I’m so…s-sorry…but..but…ahh..I can’t…take this…anymore…” 

She was falling apart now, the pain and pleasure becoming indistinguishable from one other. He glowered up at her, his eyes cold yellow slits, but his reply was dangerously soft. He ran his hands down her waist in a strangely gentle caress. 

“Aww..it’s alright..I forgive you, _schatzi…_ I know you wouldn’t actually hurt _me~…”_

He handed the knife back to her, confident she wouldn’t try that shit again. He adored how spineless she could be. 

“Now come on, you can do it…just a bit more…One more..tiny…little… _cut.”_

He dug his fingernails into the wound on her leg, warning her not to disappoint him. She whimpered in pain and braced herself, barely able to stay upright. 

She quickly pulled the knife across her stomach, gasping hard and barely registering the tears streaming down her blushing cheeks. It was so much sensory-overload that she felt like she was dying. More blood cascaded over her torso and pooled between her legs, serving as extra lubrication.

Strade shuddered with sick pleasure at the warmth of her blood on his cock. Sure, it wasn’t the first time, but it felt even better knowing that she had done this to herself. Panting heavily, he admired the pained, glazed-over look in her eyes, the fear that she had cut too much, too deep, and that she was doomed to bleed to death while getting railed by some weird asshole she met in a coffee shop. It was almost too much for even _him_ to handle. 

“Hahhh… _mein kleine hase_ …you’re being _such_ a good girl for me..”, he growled and took the knife away from her again, tugging her forward onto his chest with minimal effort. She was so fragile. So weak.

As he continued to ravage her exhausted body at a relentless pace, he ruthlessly raked the knife down her back, his bloodlust only increasing with the volume of her screams. He held the knife in between their faces and they both licked her blood off the flat side of the dripping blade in the heat of the moment. Eventually their tongues met in the middle and she sank into his hungry, gore-flooded mouth, letting him devour her.

The air was thick with chaotic energy and the smell of sex and sweat. And blood. The sheets were turning red with it, stains he would never be able to get out. But nothing mattered in that moment except the hunger, the animal instinct to claw deeper into her core. He wanted to climb inside her and wear her like a second skin.

At some point, she must have passed out on top of him so he flipped her over and started ramming into her from behind. He bit the back of her neck like a rabid beast as he fucked her face into the mattress. He growled and arched his back as he pumped her full of his hot release. 

Afterwards, feeling dazed and wobbly, he dropped her hips and she flopped over onto her side. He pushed his filthy hair out of his face and tilted his head, studying her unconscious form and blissful expression. He smiled wistfully, with a hint of something that could be confused for affection and collapsed gracelessly down next to her, completely spent. 

He watched for a little while as her chest rose and fell gently. Her wounds had appeared deep at first glance, but they were no longer bleeding, save for a thin trickle from the cut across her stomach. She looked like she was fast asleep.

“Hoo boy, _liebling,_ you really wore me out..” Strade sighed and relaxed comfortably into the blood-dampened sheets, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist and squeezing her tight against him. He pillowed his head on her soft breasts, feeling her heart beat steadily against his cheek. 

He found himself feeling pretty relieved that she didn’t actually bleed out. After all, she was too much fun of a toy to give up just yet. 

As sleep started to take him, Y/N stirred in his grasp. Everything _hurt,_ and she felt wet and sticky all over. She sighed heavily, knowing she wasn’t going anywhere until the sun came up. Strade yawned, mumbling something to her in German. 

_“Ich möchte dich für immer behalten…”_

Y/N didn’t know what any of that meant, of course, though it sounded to her like the clock on his time-bomb had been reset…but she could still hear it tick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this, I'm so sorry lol
> 
> Unless you enjoyed it <3
> 
> German Translation Key
> 
> liebling - darling, favorite
> 
> Ich liebe die Art, wie du shmeckst, liebling. - I love the way you taste, darling.
> 
> meine liebe - my love, my dear
> 
> meine liebchen - my darling, sweetheart
> 
> eifrig - eager
> 
> schätzchen - baby, honey, darling (usually means Strade is horny lol)
> 
> Lass mich dir gefallen - Let me please you.
> 
> mein schatz - my treasure
> 
> schatzi - dear, honey
> 
> mein kleine hase - my little bunny
> 
> Ich möchte dich für immer behalten. - I want to keep you forever.


	3. Backstage Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Protag helps Strade out with a...personal project.

IX. A New Friend

“He says it’s your turn now.” 

Y/N looked up from her sketchbook to see Ren standing in the doorway to the basement, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. His ears were flattened back on his head and he wouldn’t look at her directly. Not a good sign.

“What d’you mean? I didn’t know he was streaming today.”, she replied, a little caught off guard. Ren had spent the better part of the evening down in “the shop” with Strade. She hadn’t seen him bring anyone down there, but then again, he had let her sleep in pretty late that morning. It was very possible she had missed it.

“…He’s not. It’s um..a personal project. That’s what he told me, anyway.” Ren’s voice trailed off, mumbling. He looked like he really wanted to run upstairs and hide in his nest. He finally looked back at her, already halfway to the stairs. “He said he needed _your_ help with it, not mine.”

She felt a small pang of anxiety in her chest. What did he need her for this time? She supposed she had no choice but to head downstairs and find out. She hesitated for a second, then gave Ren her best reassuring smile. She was used to comforting her skittish roommate at times when she knew they were probably both equally frightened.

“Did he say..uh..what he wanted my help with, exactly?” She tried to keep her voice light. Ren looked back down at the ground, absently stroking his tail. “No..I mean, um, I didn’t ask him. He’s…got a.. _guy_ down there, though.”

Oh. So that’s what he wanted. She shivered a little then took a deep breath, standing up from the couch and stretching her arms up over her head. A couple more weeks had passed and though her right arm often still ached below the elbow, she had lost much of the feeling in her hand. It was sometimes difficult to hold onto things but at least she didn’t have to wear it in a sling anymore. There were gnarly scars where the drill holes had been so she wore ace bandages around them. Having to look at those scars made her feel nauseous. To cheer her up, Ren had drawn on the bandages with colored markers to decorate them. Cute little anime faces, hearts, stuff like that. Like signing someone’s cast when they break a bone..except not.

“Go on upstairs, Ren. I’ll be alright!”, she insisted. A muffled-sounding scream echoed up the stairway and they both flinched in unison. “Just close the door behind me. That thing is so heavy!” she said brightly, pretending she didn’t hear anything. Ren nodded, managing a weak half-smile back. As she started to descend the shadowy stairway, he whispered her name as loud as he could.

“Hey, Y/N!” She looked over her shoulder. “Don’t um…piss him off. Like, be careful…OK?”

“Don’t worry, I will. I think I know how to handle him..”, she whispered back, sounding a lot more confident than she actually felt. Finally, Ren slowly closed the door and it loudly clicked shut with a final, metallic-sounding thunk. As she went down the stairs one by one, taking her time, she could hear Strade talking to whoever was down there with him..whoever had screamed, as well as the thump of his steel-toed work boots on the concrete. Finally, she reached the bottom and peered carefully around the corner of the stairwell.

The first thing she noticed was how bright it was. All of the lights were on, long florescent tubes installed in the ceiling instead of the single, hanging bulb she was used to seeing. The basement was bigger than she thought it was and there were tools and other equipment everywhere, even mounted on the walls. She saw what looked like a large freezer and a mini-fridge against one wall, as well as a table saw in the corner. What stood out to her the most, however, were the stains. Some were more fresh than others, but they all looked they had been scrubbed repeatedly, just too stubborn to ever come out completely. She knew it was blood. This was nothing new to her, but seeing it all at once made her feel a bit dizzy.

She wobbled on the bottom stair and Strade turned, greeting her with a friendly wave. “Ah, Y/N! There you are! I was just about to crack open a cold one with _mein neuer freund!”,_ he called out to her cheerfully, a huge smile on his face. He would have looked adorable in any other situation.

Strade was standing in front of a man that appeared to be a bit younger than himself, though a few inches taller, bound standing up against the support beam in the middle of the basement, the same beam that she, herself, had spent quite a bit of time propped up against, (and nailed to.) Rope had been tied tightly around his up-stretched arms, his ankles, and over his mouth, forcing his head back. He had a furious look on his face and what was left of his presumably white t-shirt hung in tatters from his slender torso, blood seeping into the fabric from various knife wounds. He screamed around the rope in his teeth, struggling to loosen the restraints, but she knew that it wouldn’t do any good. Strade knew how to tie a knot.

Y/N stayed where she was but lifted her hand in a little wave, trying to give the hapless victim a sympathetic look. “Hi…?”, she mumbled awkwardly, not sure what else to say. Strade looked at him, expecting an answer despite the gag in his mouth.

“Well..don’t be rude. Say _hello!”_ , he barked, swiftly kneeing him in the stomach. He made a hollow, breathless kind of sound as the wind was knocked out of him. Strade grinned, but then put on a fake apologetic expression.

“Oh, that’s right! Your mouth is covered! Sorry about that..ah..what was your name, again? Oliver, right?” He circled behind him, untying the rope around his mouth instead of cutting it. It would be used again later, most likely.

Saliva oozed out of “Oliver’s” mouth and he spit on the floor, narrowly missing one of Strade’s boots. “Fffuckkk…..you….”, he sneered, glaring hard at him while trying to catch his breath. Strade leaned close to his face and he flinched uncomfortably away.

“I know how you’re feeling, buddy. You’re probably a little dehydrated, _ja?”_ He then turned toward Y/N, who hadn’t moved from the stairway, too afraid to come any closer.

“Get me a beer out of the fridge, would you, _schatzi?”,_ he asked, pacing calmly around his captive, probably looking for the best spot to strike next. Y/N walked over to the fridge, giving herself a wide berth so as not to get in Strade’s way, and pulled open the door. She clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. The shelves were full of cheap tupperware containers and plastic sandwich bags filled with unidentified raw meats and what were almost certainly human organs. Hearts, livers, kidneys, even tongues. She felt bile rise up into her throat, nearly gagging. Strade sometimes would barbecue outside on the grill for them when the weather was nice…had she actually _eaten…?_ …Oh God.

She spotted beer in glass bottles on the door, snatched one without really looking, and slammed the door shut a little harder than she intended. She stood up and moved to hand the bottle to Strade, forcing her expression to remain as neutral as possible. He was watching her closely, an amused smirk on his face. He knew what she was thinking. He thanked her and ruffled her hair, but when she went to move back to sit on the stairs, he caught her wrist.

“No, no! Stay here a while…Didn’t Ren tell you I needed your help?”

“Help with what, Strade?…I don’t..um…”, she lowered her voice hoping Oliver wouldn’t hear her. “You’re not gonna make me… _hurt_ him..are you?”

Strade laughed and gently ran his thumb over her cheek, but gave no answer. He pulled out his pocket knife and used the bottle opener to pop off the lid. He knocked it back, downing most of the beer in one swallow. _“Ahhh…_ why do I keep buying this kind? Tastes like cold piss. _”_

He examined the bottle, then looked to his guest, who had actually looked impressed at how fast he drank. “Oh, sorry…You want some, buddy?” He held the bottle up to his mouth.

“Yeah right, I don’t want _shit_ from you. Fuckin’ freak!”

"Oh no…I in _sist!!”_ Strade snarled, reeling his arm back and viciously smashing the bottle across his face, shattering it. Y/N gasped, turning away. This was already going badly.

X. Hospitality

“Aagghhh!!! You ASSHOLE! You broke my fuckin’ face!!”

Strade ignored him, instead turning to Y/N. “Can you believe this guy _?_ That’s the last time I offer _him_ a drink!” he said and shook his head, pretending to be offended. He stepped toward Oliver, getting up in his face and easily intimidating him despite being shorter. Strade’s unshakable confidence always had a strange effect on people, making it easier to break them no matter how much they tried to fight it. He yanked out one of the larger shards of glass sticking out of his face and held it to his throat.

“Are you going to play nice, _kumpel?_ We have a guest here, and it would be in your best interest to _behave.”_

“YES!! Yes, alright??!! Jesus _Christ,_ just don’t fuckin’ hit me again!”, he yelled, his voice starting to shake despite still attempting to sound tough. Strade giggled, pulling away.

“Mmm…alright. I won’t.. _hit_ you anymore.”

He then snapped his fingers and pointed at Y/N. “Get over here, assistant! We have work to do..” She hesitantly moved to stand next to him and he grabbed her arm, pulling her back against his chest. She squeaked in surprise and fear as he pulled his hunting knife from his hip holster, slicing through the oversized t-shirt she was wearing, and exposing her bare chest to the stranger in front of them. His jaw dropped and he gaped openly at her. She blushed furiously, trying to wriggle out of Strade’s tight grip.

“Ahh!!! Strade…stop!! What..are you _doing?”_ She pulled her hands free and crossed them over her chest instinctively, but he easily forced them down by her sides.

“Aww..I think he wants to see you, _schätzchen._ After all, he’s going to _die_ tonight. The least we can do is make his final moments… _pleasant.”,_ he purred in her ear, roughly kneading her breasts in his strong hands.

She moaned involuntarily at his touch, also making eye contact with Oliver without meaning to. His mouth hung open and he was sweating a little, though whether it was from fear or arousal remained to be seen. He certainly didn’t look very angry anymore. She tilted her head up to try to look at Strade pleadingly. “But…I don’t even _know_ him!! I’m..I’m embarrassed!..” 

“Hah!…you didn’t know _me_ either, silly girl, and look what happened there!” Strade laughed obnoxiously, like he had just told a great joke, and leered over her shoulder at his mesmerized victim. He did have a point.

“I see you staring. _._ I bet you wanna touch her…eh buddy? Hahaha…too bad…”

Strade eased her closer to Oliver. His hands were all over her, flaunting her body in front of his helpless, now very sweaty captive, who was biting down hard on his already bleeding lower lip. Despite his predicament, his body seemed to be responding to the visual stimulus standing mere inches away from him. Strade reached over and palmed the front of his jeans. “Ahah…I knew it.” He unzipped them, pulling out his fully erect cock in an alarmingly nonchalant gesture.

Oliver was having _none_ of this. He thrashed against the beam, yelling at Strade in protest. “D’ahh!! Hey, what the fuck, man? D-Don’t touch me!!”

_“Undankbar…”,_ Strade muttered under his breath and suddenly stabbed him in the shoulder with his knife. He screamed and hissed through his teeth in pain, his entire body tensing up. Strade twisted the blade a little, licking his lips, and wrenched it out. Blood sprayed across his shirt and he flashed Oliver an affable grin laced with malice.

_“I’m_ not going to be touching you, _freund. Mein assistent_ is going to ah..take care of your needs..” He winked at Y/N over his shoulder. “Trust me! She’s pretty good at her job.”

He then grabbed her and shoved her down on her knees at Oliver’s feet, his cock twitching in front of her face. Strade stood behind her with knife in hand, blocking any chance of escape. “No…please, Strade don’t make me… _do_ this..It’s..humiliating..” she whimpered, blinking back tears.

Strade stroked her hair for a moment, soothing her, before suddenly jerking her electric collar harshly back against her throat by the little metal ring on the back. She made a small choked noise, wincing in pain.

“Remember what this collar does, _liebling?…Do as you’re told.”_

Y/N sobbed and reluctantly took the other man’s (admittedly much smaller) member into her mouth, closing her eyes in shame. Strade held her head in his hands, his fingers entwined in her hair and pushed it further down her throat, causing her to gag and making her eyes water, blurring her vision. He stared intently into Oliver’s eyes, observing his every subtle reaction. He could tell he was trying to resist giving any indication that he was enjoying this, but then Y/N happened to look up at him, with her teary eyes and her blushing face, and he let out a low groan of unmistakable pleasure.

“Hahh…sh-shit…you really _are_ good at this.”

Strade pet her on the head like an obedient puppy and strolled leisurely over to his worktable. Humming to himself, he looked around thoughtfully, then took something off the wall and turned back to face them, hiding it behind his back. He leaned against the table, just calmly watching. Oliver was definitely into it now, his panting and moaning uninhibited. He was thrusting into Y/N’s mouth as forcefully as the ropes holding him would allow. 

“Ah..yeah.. _fuck,_ don’t stop, you slut…”

Growing giddy with excitement, Strade pushed off of the table and approached them slowly, still holding something behind his back. “..Getting close there, buddy? You look like you’re really enjoying this…” His tone was conversational, like he was commenting on the weather.

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head back against the beam. “Hahh…. _mmmf_..I’m gonna-“

Strade suddenly planted the bottom of his boot against Y/N’s chest, pushing her backwards, at the same time revealing what he had behind his back. The pair of heavy-duty hedge clippers snapped open with a metallic _shing_ , immediately getting Oliver’s attention.

“Hey! Wha-Oh..oh, fuck no…NOOOO!!!”

His eyes bugged out in fear and confusion as Strade slammed them closed with surprising force, messily chopping into his stiff, pulsating cock. He had been so painfully hard and close to orgasm that it took two tries to slice all the way through.

Oliver screamed bloody murder, his voice rising to a high-pitched caterwaul that echoed off of the sound-proofed walls and made Y/N’s ears ring. Blood and semen gushed from the gaping hole in his pelvis in a hot, red geyser all over her face and breasts. She cried out in horror and disgust while Strade just laughed heartily. It was like something out of a cartoon. He picked up the severed appendage off the ground and stuffed it into the screaming man’s mouth like a gag, forcing him to choke on his own bloody dick. 

“How does it taste? Haha.. _ahhh…_ you know, I wasn’t sure if that was going to work that well. Was sort of, ah..how you say.. _winging_ it there. I _was_ just going to kill you right after you finished. Hmm..probably something simple, like..slitting your throat, caving in your skull with a hammer…or taking you for a ride on my table saw. Nothing too crazy.”

He glanced down at Y/N, still on her knees and drenched in gore. She was covering her bloody face with her hands and shaking. So pathetic. He felt the heat of his own twisted desire ignite in his chest. Smiling, he leaned close and whispered into Oliver’s ear.

“I think it turned out even better than I hoped.”

Strade reached down and pulled Y/N to her feet by her wrist, instantly crushing his mouth against hers with a low growl, sloppily licking the other man’s blood off of her lips and face. He forced his tongue into her mouth and smeared his hands into the blood that had poured out all over her chest. Though taken by surprise, she submitted to him easily, melting into his touch. Something about being covered in someone’s blood besides her own appealed to her, maybe because of the way Strade reacted to it. Getting a third party involved in their “activities” always seemed to drive him crazy.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, trying to forget that they were making out in front of a man that had just been castrated and was now attempting to not gag on his own severed penis shoved down his throat. Strade pulled away from her lips with a gasp, blood dripping from his mouth and soaking through his shirt. He gripped Y/N’s chin in his hand and turned her head to the side, forcing her to look at Oliver, but she really didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to feel guilty.

She just wanted Strade to keep kissing her.

“Aw..Just look at him, _liebling._ He’s suffering _so_ much, the poor thing. Don’t you think we should put him out of his misery?~” His voice was breathy, urgent, and it didn’t sound like he gave a flying fuck if the guy lived or died. That was so like Strade.

“….We?”

XI. Little Mercy

As she stared at Oliver’s trembling, emasculated form hanging limply from the beam, his struggles slowing as he continued to lose more and more blood, Y/N found herself conflicted. She knew she should be appalled by what Strade had done to him, but all she felt was cool detachment. She should be wretching at the taste of his warm blood in her mouth and she _absolutely_ _should_ _be_ screaming at Strade to stop touching her, telling him to fuck off, that he’s a terrible person, and push him away…

She should be fighting him every day until he either kills her or lets her go free…but instead she felt… _exhilarated._

Hadn’t that been the word Strade used when he had watched her repeatedly stab that woman during her first snuff stream? _Shit._

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back on Strade’s shoulder while he slowly licked the blood off her neck. “Strade..stop…please..no more..” she protested half-heartedly. They both knew she didn’t really want him to. He pushed his knife into her hand and purred in her ear.

“Kill him, _schätzchen…_ It’s alright, he’s going to bleed out anyway. You’ll be doing him a favor, really.”

“No…I-I..I can’t do that…” Y/N did know, in fact, that she could do it. She just wasn’t ready to give herself full permission to be an irredeemable piece of shit yet, though the way Strade was touching her was quickly forcing her over that border. He closed his fingers over hers holding the knife, his other hand briefly sliding between her legs, teasing her.

“Do it for him, Y/N…or do it for _me_ … _Ich werde dafür sorgen, dass du dich so gut fühlst…”_

She made a high, frustrated sound. Strade knew exactly how to make her do whatever he wanted, the crafty bastard. She looked at Oliver again. His eyes were glazing over and there were tears and snot running down his face. He had managed to finally spit out his severed penis and it lay sadly on the dirty floor by his feet. He hissed at her weakly through clenched teeth when he saw the knife in her hand, his voice barely louder than a whisper. 

“You _sick_ … _fucks_ …Christ, just k-kill me already…Fffuck.”

Strade was grinning like a maniac, clearly chomping at the bit to see more blood spilled. “Go on, _liebling._ Just…stick it in his chest. It will be nice and quick! Or his stomach…or his throat…or his eye….” He sounded more unhinged with each choice he named off. 

He nudged Y/N forward and rocked back and forth on his heels, unable to sit still. She glanced back at him, and he nodded encouragingly, shoving his hands in his pockets and watching silently to see if she would really go through with it. He licked his chops like a starving animal, yellow eyes burning with feverish excitement.

She mumbled out a shaky apology and plunged the knife into the left side of his chest with two hands. It felt like the blade stopped at his ribs and she wondered if it had really gone in far enough to pierce anything vital.

"I’m sorry…Oliver…” 

She thought saying his name out loud would make her feel worse about killing him, but it really didn’t. Instead she felt a rush of adrenaline. A high. Was this the feeling that Strade was constantly chasing? No wonder he was such a fucking lunatic.

Her victim jerked violently, as if slapped, and immediately coughed up blood.

“You…little.. _cunt.”_ His voice sounded bubbly, garbled with the blood filling his lungs. He was drowning.

Strade crept up from behind, wrapping his arm around her waist and grabbed her hand still holding the hilt of his hunting knife. He helped her drag it down across his chest in a deep diagonal gash, grotesquely splitting him open. Bisecting him. She could only stare wide-eyed as what used to be Oliver bled profusely from his chest, his head falling forward as he lost consciousness. She was both fascinated and revolted as she watched him die.

Yanking the knife out and splashing blood and bits of flesh onto the two of them, Strade grabbed Oliver by the hair, lifting his head up. He was pretty much gone by this point but that didn’t stop Strade from slitting his throat, letting the blade glide through the flesh nice and slow. The wound didn’t bleed much and Strade let his head drop, a little disappointed. He shrugged his shoulders and wiped his knife off on the bottom of his shirt.

He must have been _all outta jam haha_ , Y/N thought wildly.

XII. To the Victors (Go the Spoils)

Still not quite registering what exactly she had just done, or maybe just repressing the awful memory, Y/N allowed herself to be roughly pinned against the mangled corpse still hanging from the beam, her back sliding against the gore leaking from the massive chest wound she had created. Strade impatiently tore off the rest of her clothes and grabbed her wrists harshly, even though he knew she wouldn’t struggle (he just wanted to give her more bruises) then leaned close to her face.

“Mmm..that was so good _liebling_ …You’re such a helpful assistant!” He licked the side of her neck above her collar, his hot breath fanning over her sensitive skin. She mewled and writhed against the dead body behind her, almost forgetting it was there, and Strade pressed himself against her to hold her in place. She could practically feel his cock throbbing through his beige cargo pants.

“ _Du verdienst einen Preis.”_

Brandishing his knife, Strade lifted Y/N’s leg up and eyed her thigh hungrily. Sharply focused and tantalizingly slow, he drew his blade along the length of her inner thigh, watching the blood well up in a dark, dripping, red line. She moaned in mixed pain and pleasure and tangled her hands into his disheveled hair as he attacked the fresh wound mouth-first, greedily lapping up her blood before it could drip onto the floor. He gazed up at her, his eyes blazing hot with bloodlust, and dragged his tongue all the way up her thigh, maddeningly close to her pussy. She held her breath, quivering with need, and waited.

Of course, he stopped right before he got there and flicked his tongue away, instead biting savagely into the meat of her thigh and pulling at the torn flesh. She cried out, not really sure whether it felt good or not. He maintained eye contact, growling through his bared teeth at her, and ripped a bloody chunk of flesh right out of her leg. She screamed and stared down at him in revulsion as blood seeped out of his mouth and dripped down his chin. He swallowed the little piece of her he had torn away and smirked, amused by her reaction.

“I _really_ love your flavor… _Du machst mich hungrig…”_

He suddenly lunged forward and kissed her, hard, spitting her own blood into her open mouth. She heard him fumbling with his belt buckle and then felt his thick cock rubbing against her thigh, lubricating himself with the blood running down her leg. She yelped in pain against his mouth as she felt him start pushing inside of the wound, stretching it open and tearing the skin further apart.

For one awful instant, Y/N thought he was going to actually fuck her leg, but then he dug his hands into her hips and lifted her up into his arms. Relieved, she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, both of them panting and trembling with anticipation of what was to come.

“You’re soaking wet, you filthy thing..” he growled into her ear, biting it, and slammed into her hard enough to make her dizzy. She cried out his name and threw her head back against the corpse’s mutilated chest, its head hanging limply next to hers and bobbing around with the impact of each brutal thrust. She barely noticed, since any sense of horror or disgust had been long since obliterated by the feeling of Strade’s massive cock pulverizing her tight cunt.

“Hahhh… _mmmm_ …do you…like that.. _mein kleine…kätzchen?”_ , he panted loudly, digging his fingers into her ass and smacking it hard enough to leave a bright red handprint. The blood getting all over her backside only made it hurt more and her breathy moans sharpened into a scream. 

“Ahh…yea…please Strade, _harder!!”_ , she begged him, clawing at his back through his shirt and gazing pleadingly into his eyes.

“Ohh..you want me to be rough with you, _ja?_ Are you _suuuure?”_ he purred, grinning devilishly and pressing his fingers into her throat. “Ahh…Oh god…y-yes!!” she choked out the words, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn’t regret it.

“…if you insist!”

Strade carried her easily across the room and dropped her back on the table saw, the large circular blade only a few inches from the top of her head. He loomed over her, menacingly, a crazy look in his eye. He reached under the table, flipping a switch, and the saw roared to life, the table vibrating underneath her with the dangerous power of the machine. He resumed fucking her, the blade close enough to move the hair on the top of her head from the wind created by its rotation.

“How’s _this_ for rough?!” he shouted at her, laughing sinisterly. Her eyes widened in terror and she scrambled to grab onto his shoulders, trying to pull herself away from the saw.

"Holy shit!! What the _fuck_ , Strade!! Are you _crazy_??”, she screamed into his face. He leaned down next to her ear so she could hear him over the saw. 

“Oh, _liebling_ …you should know the answer to _that_ one by now..ahahaha….”

He then flipped her over without warning, bending her far over the edge of the saw bench and twisting her arms painfully behind her back, forcefully taking her from behind and making her stare at the rapidly spinning blade of death only a couple of inches from her face. Strade grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked back viciously, using it for leverage. Her breasts rubbed uncomfortably against the rough surface of the bench and the sound of the saw was deafening so close to her ears. She screamed until her throat was raw and sore, but she could barely hear her own terrified voice over the whine of the saw as Strade absolutely _ruined_ her pussy.

She was nearing her breaking point when Strade reached forward and grabbed her by the throat, dragging her off of the table. He threw her to the floor onto her back and dropped to his hands and knees, crawling up to straddle her stomach. Staring her down with frightening intensity, he jerked himself off desperately until he came, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum all over her face, and sticking in her hair spread out on the floor behind her. He didn’t blink once the whole time.

Strade breathed out a contented sigh, a lazy, tired smile spreading across his flushed face as he leaned down to touch Y/N’s slightly parted lips. She licked the cum off of his fingertips absent-mindedly and gazed up at him from the floor with total adoration, her eyes half-lidded, looking exhausted, but happy all the same.

He took off his shirt and tossed it over her face, chuckling at her teasingly. “Clean yourself up, _liebling._ You’re a mess.” Then he got up and stepped over her, getting ready to start cleaning up the _real_ mess they had both made.

Y/N hugged Strade’s gross, stained shirt against her face and let her eyelids fall, inhaling his distinct scent of sweat, machine grease, and coppery blood. She smiled softly to herself, feeling warm and cozy as she lay naked and sore on the cold, filthy, concrete basement floor where so many had died horrible, screaming deaths by his hand.

The creeping realization that she had just committed her first real murder quickly dissolved with her next emerging thought. It was like a bright, white-hot light turning on in her heart, radiating a delicious warmth throughout her entire body. Like coming home.

She was in love.

<3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, this one was pretty vile. If you got this far, thanks for reading!
> 
> Feedback always welcome :)
> 
> German Translation Key
> 
> mein neuer freund - my new friend
> 
> schatzi - dear, honey
> 
> kumpel - buddy, pal
> 
> schätzchen - baby
> 
> undankbar - ungrateful
> 
> mein assistent - my assistant
> 
> liebling - darling, favorite
> 
> Ich werde dafür sorgen, dass du dich so gut fühlst - I will make you feel so good.
> 
> Du verdienst einen Preis. - You deserve a prize.
> 
> Du machst mich hungrig. - You make me hungry.
> 
> mein kleine kätzchen - my little kitten


End file.
